The return gift
by likingthistoomuch
Summary: When ghosts of the past clear the future...Its Christmas!


Snow crunched under their feet as they navigated the carpet of fallen twigs, following a path that only Sherlock could see. Molly had reached a stage far from caring, wanting to just reach the destination… whatever that was… and hoping that she would get some warmth to thaw her freezing limbs. But deliverance from the cold didn't seem anywhere in sight, all around them was forest and snow covered trees. She took solace in that fact that at least the snow wasn't falling…yet…as the grey, pregnant sky promised ominously.

She was in pretty good shape but she just wasn't made for the cold climes of…wherever they were. Sherlock had just asked her to pack warm and the next thing she knew, their private jet had taken off and landed in some foreign place. The Cyrillic script surprised her, giving her some idea of where they might be. Directly transported from the airport to the waiting car (thankfully stocked with the appropriate winter clothing) and from there following Sherlock deep into the woods, Molly was as clueless as a new born pup. Well, she had her sight but that wasn't helping much now. And Sherlock had been mum right from the moment he met her by the plane, not a single word being shared.

She was about to cry out in frustration as she sunk to her left knee yet again but stopped short…Sherlock had stopped a few feet ahead, and had sagged against a rocky outcrop nearby, his face suddenly very emotional. She had pushed herself to hurry to him, his uncharacteristic behaviour making her forget the cold.

There was an old log cabin in front of them. It had shuttered windows and the sturdy door seemed locked. It looked abandoned, the wood stacked by the door almost completely covered by the snow. An axe was stuck to the wall, its blade sunk deep into the wood.

"Of all the people who helped me along, she had the least reason to do so. All the problems she had…add to it a wanted fugitive. But she didn't care…didn't ask questions, just dragged me in and gave me shelter. She saved my life, and she really didn't need to."

He took a couple of deep breaths, the air steadying his nerves.

"This cabin was her last resort…since that door hasn't been opened for months now-", he stopped mid-sentence. And then with a sudden flurry of action he moved to the back where she followed, finding him staring at the wall. His face broke into a sudden smile that seemed to light up the surroundings.

"She escaped," Molly asked tentatively.

Relief seemed to be flowing off the man in waves. He suddenly seemed young and glad to be alive, where just a moment ago his shoulders seemed to bear the weight of the whole world.

As they retraced their steps, they didn't speak a single word during their trek back to their car, or during their flight home. Sherlock slept throughout the journey, the sleep of a relieved man she guessed. She still had no clue why she had been dragged halfway across the continent, especially since it had been Christmas Eve when they left.

And it was still Christmas Eve…though barely.

The car trip to her flat was silent too, though this time the silence wasn't foreboding. It was soothing, peaceful, nice.

She was surprised when Sherlock followed her out of the car and right up to her flat door. Stepping inside, she proceeded to hang her coat up and switched on the kettle. When she turned, she was surprised to see he was still by the door, staring at the floor.

"It had been Christmas Eve when she dragged me in. And since I couldn't repay her (thankfully), I'll have to pay it forward."

It was now her turn to remain silent. He took a while to gather his thoughts as she stood still, patience always in abundance for this man.

"I have been saved by strong, selfless women- some directly, some helping people I hold very dear. And I am very grateful I didn't need any saving today. "

He moved in a few steps, now facing her but still standing at a distance.

"You have been there for me more times than you know, and in more ways than you can understand. And just as I was grateful that cold day, I am indebted and thankful for your constant companionship and warmth. Now and always."

She stood still, stunned by his words and the emotion in them.

"Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper." He kissed her cheek as the clock struck midnight and sounds of revellers filtered up from the street. Stepping back, his face lit by a small yet enigmatic smile, Sherlock nodded once before he left her flat.

The church bells were ringing, notes of carols sung drunkenly floated above and a few cars hooted their horns, either at pedestrians or in celebration. She now understood why he had taken her along, and was glad that her presence served its purpose. Sherlock didn't need any saving today, and she was more than grateful for that fact. Yes, it definitely was Christmas.


End file.
